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fionarara · 10 months

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+ cherry bomb .

+ GOJŌ SATORU x READER .

+ T W ⇾ 18+ only . smut . sugar daddy!gojo . dilf!gojo . f!reader . implied ddlg dynamics . adult age gap (the amount is your interpretation) . aquaphilia aka underwater sex . praise . a bit of a baby bimbo reader so um dacryphilia, no rly, like i’m talking actual tears, yeah . gojou has a dumb joke (or two) . mention of divorce (not yours) and of gojo’s child (also not yours) . slight size kink if you squint . i feel like both flaunted capitalism and vapid self-indulgence needs a tag here ?? we be explorin dark kink of all kinds on this here blog, right? (｡>ω<｡) . reader has a few nicknames . no beta . and lastly, probably goes without saying but daddy kink, i repeat, daddy kink . oyasumi ✌︎ .

+ A N ⇾ um, istg i totally did not mean to post this dilf!gojo on actual father’s day, h-whoa? but the universe just always has my back i swear, an amazing coincidence as i only realized right before posting, and somehow it feels *symbolic* ?? - this is for the sugar daddy collab by @sleepysnk, ty for letting me join last minute summer ♡

+ W C ⇾ circa 5,500

Zz Zz Zz.

Within your skirt a vibration kicks off.

The ringing of a phone tucked into the waistband against your tummy chimes out its soft little tune where you withdraw it to peek at the screen. Flashing vibrantly across its surface reads ‘DD Gojo’, and the smile unveiling on your face shines as brightly as the reflected device in your palm.

From where you stand on the sidewalk in elegant heels, all dolled up for the occasion, the twilight of dusk is visible on the horizon. The vision of picturesque dark multi-colored hues harmonize nicely with the wafting scent of warm pastries and tea in the air nearby, out from the cafe of the luxury shopping center you’ve been waiting in front of: Gojo’s favorite meeting spot. Whereby inevitably, has become yours as well.

A place you have both frequented together before, where he has showered you with many gifts, many times over, treasured in both of your memories. Cherished adventures built here upon wining and dining at the finest restaurants, playing dress up at the shops amongst extravagance, the cavalcade of glittering jewels and lavish garments–all the things you deserve as far as he’s concerned. He is of the belief that whatever you receive should be nothing but the best the world could ever offer, or at least his wallet, he figures.

And since life has been really tough on him lately–divorce is a bitch, the entire ongoing legal process has been one drawn out migraine–you and your overall companionship are so highly prized, not only in his day-to-day, but because of the new glow you’ve supplied his life. Especially during the last several months of regularly seeing one another after the separation from his marriage.

Unabashed in his absolute fondness for you, he has deemed you his little crème de la crème angel.

You pick up the jingling phone in your hand.

Gojo Satoru seems to be in an especially exuberant and silly mood when his voice forces a notable husky tone, answering your greeting with a fun-loving tease, a low murmur on the other end of the call.

“Ring-ding-dong—is baby ready for my dong, sweets?” He finds himself hilarious, goofy, a laugh ripping out of his throat with audacity, clearly and thoroughly enjoying his own terrible joke.

Wow. There’s that classic on-a-whim, lively, larger-than-life bluntness that comes along with Gojo’s Sagittarius energy you have come to know well: he’s innately playful and comedic, fun, loud, has got a charmingly sharp tongue with no filter—it can sometimes come back to bite him in the ass if he’s not careful—and all of that is blanketed by a sort of fiery sense of passion for the things he loves.

The fact remains that his way of being has always been able to find a kind of carefree humor within you, something so inexplicable. He brings out in you a sense of total ease or lightness you weren’t even sure you were capable of. A kind of untapped, unfettered joy no one has ever been able to touch in you before…

So you’re halfway snickering at him now, amused, but with full-blown sarcasm you reply, “Ha–ha, Satoru, you’re so classy…” then you’re truly giggling, “...just shuddup and get over here already.” You try to restrain the crack of a too-wide smile from spreading across your cheeks, but fail, gloriously.

So you give in to it. Deciding to oblige him, you press the mic of the phone closer to your lips with a hand cupped over your mouth, shielding your next spoken words while you avert your head downward in a play of secrecy. It’s almost a whisper when you respond.

“But…yes, I think that…just maybe, I am ready for it. Got it?”

He’s unable to actually see the minxy raise of your brow shown on your face, but the gesture is not lost on him from the tone in your voice. He hears it loud and clear.

“Jeesus, baby, I’m comin’, I’m comin’...”, the subtle rise of anticipation within him giddy and excitable. "Listen, I’m almost there. My GPS says I’m two minutes away.”

Late afternoon air has you rubbing away chilly goosebumps alive on your skin, particularly your upper arms, to bring you warmth. “Ok, good. Please hurry, it’s getting nippy out.”

“Oh?” Here it comes… “Mm, ya better have nipples out…see you soon.” The sound of a bold chuckle is distorted by the phone speaker before it’s cut off by a prompt click. He disconnected the call in that way.

Already, it is your second humored eye-roll of the evening from his cheeky Gojo-behavior and you haven’t even seen him yet.

Your chest is lighter because of it.

The shopping bags in your grasp shift from two hands into one, your free hand thumbing to find the golden credit card Gojo lent you in the pocket of your jacket. Assuring yourself that it’s still there is important.

Over a month ago, he had broken the news of how meetups between the two of you would soon become more of a challenge, due to court and custody hearings surrounding the finalization of his divorce. You’d be spending a considerable amount of time apart, he’d said. It would be longer than usual, by a whole month, and offered to grant you some form of consolation in return. So the very next day, an express-shipped credit card appeared at your doorstep in the fine afternoon with a letter enclosed. In it, he expressed that you were to use it and shop to your little heart’s content. The only deal was that you would hand it back upon the arrival of this date.

The car that pulls up to double park along the curbside beside you is, without a doubt, the most expensive car you will have ever ridden. It’s new. Gojo had mentioned it last week, making the purchase to lift his spirits and also as celebration for the court case he’d won against his ex. They’d granted him equal joint custody of their child. Actually, his final stop prior to fetching you this evening had been dropping off his baby daughter.

The door swings open on its own, remotely controlled by electronics. In view and resting on the front seat is a tatty teddy bear belonging to his child that was forgotten.

“Oops, lemme move that for you.” Somehow the sight of this tiny plush toy in his large hand brings about the sweetest rush in you for him. The stuffed animal is laid to rest onto the back seat where you also note a hollow purple baby bottle leaking a dribble of spilt milk from its nipple and onto the cushion.

Nineties grunge-rock plays soft on the radio when you climb in. The air is filled with a sweet and peppery, woodsy scent, one you recognize immediately–it’s him, his comforting cologne so greatly missed, only making you that much more aware of just how profound the ache has truly been for this moment to be by his side.

Crawling towards him, you pelt your eager arms around his neck, a way that communicates it has felt like an eternity apart. Both of you have a greater sense of it now, from being in the other’s presence. You can hardly keep your exhilaration in check, not with the soft squeals you let loose on his shoulder. For a moment, together you melt, breathing into each other.

It hangs in the air of the moment as you embrace.

The weight of the wait.

He then cradles you deeper, pulling you into an assertive kiss so welcoming, so sloppy with intention, it’s as if he’s blissfully unconcerned with how messy it is because, finally, you’re here. Letting you know it’s been far too long for him when he’s matting your cheeks with numerous pecks and taking in the scent of your hair.

Withdrawing to observe you, his eyes alight with radiance at the full sight of you, your energy. “God, I almost forgot just how stunning you are. Look at you! Just…incredible.”

The praise washes over you and after exchanging a few more greeting words, of how you’ve longed to see each other, he shifts the car gear into drive.

Buildings whip across the dark sunset and late dusk settles in. The spectacle of nightfall on this ride, of the city through the windshield, excites him enough to ignite a sudden curious stir in his pants. Maybe it’s the prospect of what night can bring with you along after so much distance that has his dick twitch at the thought alone.

And with that, his hand is creeping over to your lap. It should be almost comical when you believe for the quickest moment that his approaching hand would be innocent. One only of affection, to caress you, a gentle expression only in missing you…

But consequently, their energy becomes different—turn into those fingers, the kind you know well that are wanting, possessive. And being able to even think another thought is lost on you before he is squeezing at the thickest part of your inner thigh then slipping under your skirt.

“Satoruuu…wait…” you swat his arm with a light tap, dissuading him from getting too distracted. It’s happened once or twice before he’s lost control of the wheel when attempting something as naughty as this, but it is half-hearted when you breathily urge, “…pay…pay attention to the road…”

Not a moment later, out from the speakers the bass booms more loudly, the volume amplifying higher by the second where the music thumps heavy throughout your body. You locate the outlandish crystal-eyed culprit and his thumb pressing the ‘+ volume up’ button on the steering wheel.

Not only does he have the music blasted, but has the gall to flash a cutesy grin of mischief at you, a most sinful and impish face. That expression is followed up with a playful mocking yell, where the holler of his voice competes and cuts through the music.

“HUH, baby?-! WHAT? I can't hear you!” he teases, then carries on anyway with the slide of his fingers between your pressed thighs. It’s difficult for you not to part them a smidge while the electric feel of his three fingers reaches for your clothed cunt. They press flat against your mound at the first touch, then begin to fondle lightly at the grooves of your pussy, tracing the outer shape of it with his fingertips.

Having some restraint here had been your aim, but tonight you seem to be failing plenty at not completely succumbing to his whimsical charm–it's just been so long since you’ve been near him–you’d almost forgotten how magnetic his presence truly is.

Attempting to keep your desire hidden, you try stifling the puff of air that escapes your throat, turning your head away towards the window, but it is futile. On full display to him now is how unable you are to withstand his spellbinding touch, and he’d spotted it. That little starved expression tells Gojo how badly you’re fiending, it has him lowering the radio, the amplitude of the loud song descending and funneling out of the small space, volume all the way down so he can very clearly hear what his defiance has wrought on you.

Listening to your tiny constrained moans sends heat straight through his abdomen. You do not want to be condoning any of this while he’s driving, but unfortunately for your willpower, you act on instinct when you begin pawing desperately at the muscular forearm connected to strong fingers massaging over the wet spot of your panties.

“Yeahh…you like this, huh? Knew it.”

But, in a moment too soon, he is cut off by an abrupt swerve of the car and you gasp.

“Shit–” he grips steadfast onto the wheel, gaining composure of the vehicle.

“...Alright, alright, you were right. Let’s save this.” Punctuating the final word with one reassuring pat down onto your pussy, it's honestly more like a gentle spank.

You’re pouting, but of course you nod, agree, and settle into the electrically warmed seat produced by the suave leather chair, feeling loosened up.

Safety first.

. + .

The door to Gojo’s opulent estate, only a fraction of what sits on a 22-acre property, welcomes you by the greeting of a polished and suited butler. Warm lighting casts down from the expansive ceiling and it’s the first time this evening you’re able to catch a true glimpse of Gojo’s eyes. They look a bit tired, a tad worn from his recent circumstances, but it is truly a wonder how he can make even a light touch of under-eye bags look sexy.

Walking past the foyer toward the candle-lit living room, you extend him your comfort. Wrapping your arm around the bulk of his bicep, the other palm reaches for the hard pec on his chest to rub soothing circles of understanding.

Here you are at long last, approaching the grand sofa, both of you plopping yourselves atop the plush expanse and seamlessly locking on to one another. He relishes in the beautiful body flush against his.

Encircling his waist with your arms, you find it rather cute in taking note that he is marginally plumper around his middle than before, having developed a more modest weight around his butt and love handles. Though abs of steel still ripple his shirt, the overworked dad you hold in your arms seems to have relaxed a little from the recent stress and you are filled with a sudden pride for him.

A light-hearted joke flickers in your mind of his natural ability to take up space from his energy alone anyway–how you admire it, a part of you secretly wishing you could embody more of that in yourself–but mostly in how you appreciate this bigger physical development in him, because it now means there's a little more of him in the world.

“Shall we toast?” he suggests, so he whips you up a nice pink drink while he sips hard gin on the rocks, leaning back, thighs spread open like an empowered slut.

Curiosity then strikes him when the haul of shopping bags sitting on the floor from your spree earlier this evening catches his eye. “Ooo, lemme me take a peek at what you got.” he sits up and nods, face gleaming.

One by one each item is showcased and he is enthralled by every piece, because of course he is—it’s part of why he adores you, chose you, your keen eye and clear level of taste has always been impeccable, distinct and unique, highly attractive.

Then his heart is increasing in size as you confirm, right here, right now, that those aren’t amongst your only positive qualities when you’re showing him you’d also picked up something for him and had been thoughtful enough to do so. An ornate watch is pulled out of a fresh bag by your delicate hands, that then with a snap is on his wrist, handsome as it glints and refracts in the candlelight of the room.

Your body reaches over the littered items on the elaborate rug, clasping the final shopping bag which houses the bikini you had bought for this reunion by his request.

He whistles at it. “Superb. Model it for me, will you, babe?”

You do. Twirl, shimmy, joke with an exaggerated runway catwalk, giggle, then there’s something visible written on his face and you’re able to anticipate what his next move might be.

Gojo had developed a pension for bestowing you with a few cutesy nicknames in the time spent getting to know you. Amongst his favorites and most frequently used is that of ‘cherrybomb’. Must be a fan of The Runaways, you figured, but it truly came about when, almost exclusively, you began wearing rouge-shade lipsticks in his presence. Perhaps you could make yourself seem a little older, you’d hoped, give yourself a closer touch of sophistication in his world by presenting yourself in such a way.

But mostly he’d donned you with the specific moniker because a smattering of the red tends to end up around the lower half of his dick after he's had his way with you, a faint painted crimson over his pelvis near where it meets the shaft.

You’re halfway through striking a faked model pose when he lifts himself off the couch and approaches. With an index finger so sensual, he presses up into the cushion of your ruby lips, holding tight to your gaze, coaxing you with a query, “So, gonna help daddy feel better now, cherrybomb?"

Then, far into the depths of crystalline aqua you swim, deep into the mesmerizing eyes that lock onto yours and you say nothing; nothing except for an exhale of hot moist vapor releasing onto the firm finger that baits you. The slow lick you give it afterward, dragging your tongue up along the column of his digit, landing at the tip, answers any and all of his questions. He can already feel the swell of blood trickling in to fill up his cock.

The time has come for his hand to guide you through another hallway toward the recently completed construction of a large-scale naturesque onsen the size of a massive pool, installed in the outdoor area beyond the sliding doors. Intending to experience it tonight for the first time was on his agenda, professing his desire to christen the new space with you, right before he glides a magnificent lustered glass door to one side, letting you through.

You step into the open atmosphere: water bedazzled by moonlight, submerged light fixtures softly illuminating a mint-aqua azure-blue glow, steam rising thick as fog. A plethora of tall bamboo trees enclose the surrounding space, a waterfall cascades off a giant boulder just around the bend and beneath your feet and everywhere is an assortment of gorgeous stones varying in shapes, sizes and sorts.

Gojo leans into you from behind when you approach the onsen’s outer edge, planting kisses along your neck. A clean tug at the string of your bikini top by his hand has it flopping off your breasts, exposing them to the crisp night air, amongst the sprinkle of stars hanging in the heavens. Bikini bottoms hit your ankles next and he strips completely, down to his boxers, then to nothing at all. Already he’s rock hard, a cock so upright, it seems it could nearly touch his abs.

A large hand links to yours, leading you down into the inviting water.

"God, you’re tiny next to me." He tells you, loving how much his big build towers your frame, admiring your body from behind as you descend into the blue, bare feet hitting each lowered pebbled step.

Submerging into warmth, it cradles you as you dip in. Vapor floats off the lapping surface where your joined bodies bob together in water, all of your limbs wrapped around him. He wastes not another second longer, gripping you impossibly closer, making out with you, ardently; proving himself to be ever the great multitasker with one hand gripped on your asscheek and another kneading at your breast.

Now the sizzling of your skin isn’t from the heated water alone, for beneath the very surface you simmer for him, a robust flame of aching arousal so unbearable it has you trembling. Shaky and flustered by lust, from how strong hands grope every inch of your body, how his tongue intoxicates you as it rolls fluidly against yours, he senses it all—how overcome you are by need—making him groan with a fire in his belly, as do you, too.

Desire has your spine arching. Legs still grasped to his waist, your ass pops backward as far as it will reach, creating easy access for him where he can trace fingertips along the crack of your ass as a guide, down to the ‘X’ which marks the spot of your slick hole.

Two thick fingers dip up, curl inside you, and plumes of oxygen off your light moans release between whimpers. Like your third eye opening, the instant clarity you receive in understanding how these fingers are able to create such powerful sorcery is made evident now, by his digits making literal magic in you as they fuck you filthy beneath the water.

“Missed you like hell.” He murmurs, then you grip tighter, moaning, sucking a quick bruise on his neck.

Yet all too soon, he notes the angle of his wrist is not ideal, nor the slight pushback from the water. All of it provides much resistance for him to thrust into you at the necessary speed that he knows would truly have you unraveling for him.

A light bulb flicks on in his head.

“Turn for me.” He commands, gentle and true.

In favor of getting you back to the onsen steps without letting you lose arousal, he whips your body around, directing your arms to wind behind his neck, your ankles to wrap around his. With your back meeting his chest, exposed nipples sting wet in the cold bite of the air, wading you through the water. His goal to keep that hot coil of desire burning within you also means his own cravings run high right now, to have you squirming on his fingers from this position, knowing where that button can be pressed upon.

“Thaaat’s it, baby, keep it up for me…” He entices, approvingly, an eager hand reaching from around your hip to the front, massaging over your clit in winding motions of expertise. His game is won when your hips begin to stutter, rocking and chasing for more of his touch and he can sense the steady rhythm of your thighs tensing against his.

Soon, your feet hit the stony steps. Placed on a higher level than him, it gives him reason to bend you over as planned, to hike your ass up above the waterline where it collects just around your thighs. It’s there you are instructed to hold steadfast on the edge of the onsen.

“Good, baby. Just like that.”

He reckons it’s his turn to make you pliant and easy access for himself. From where he stands below, waist deep in water, his face is lined with the entirety of your raw nether-region, anxiously awaiting to eat you out from behind.

But first, the sight of you like this is truly something to behold.

Here is a quick moment of pause for Gojo, caught in admiring the beauty of pearlescent vapors casting heat off of every bit of your skin, dancing upward through the shine of moonbeams contrasted against the darkness.

“Mmm.” There’s a tone of carnal wonder—and just a touch of light playfulness—in his humbled voice. “Your pussy is steaming hot, baby. Literally.”

You whine from the unfavorable lack of contact as he purrs his sweet words. Air is blown over your bare steamy cunt by his lips, cooling it down, watching it clench, eyeing heat vapors disperse around it. Then he gingerly pries the petals of your pussy open, lingers in admiration for another moment longer before finally tugging your thighs backward to strike his face onto the wet folds. He impresses a deep open-mouthed kiss onto it, sucking your pussy slow and deep into his mouth, and you snap—out comes your ungodly cry in ecstasy. He makes it sloppy, purposefully a bit disheveled, all wicked slurps and licks of passion, and a huff from his nose hits your asshole in a stimulating sensation.

The taste of the mineral water mixed with the sweet drip of your cunt thoroughly quenches his thirst for this christening.

Light daddy scruff from his lower face can be felt against you as another slow upward lick nearly grazes your anus. He wants to create a plateau of his tongue stretching across the whole of your pussy, so he’s scooping under to search for your clit and press there, toying with the nub for several long languid beats.

That is until he makes a quicker decision to swap it in favor of shoving his fingers inside you and pump them with force from behind. When you thrust back to help his fingers reach deeper, he already misses his face being trapped and pressed to your cunt, so he moves back to slurping your clit too.

Your head falls forward as you crescendo from tiny whimpers into staccato groans, then sensing him pause for the smallest of moments only to catch a breath where you can feel his rapid draw of air.

He is attuned to when your hips begin gyrating harder onto his sucks, it’s a signal you’re close to your finish. So he doubles down, grabbing hold of your sides in a bruising grip, fingertips digging deep into the flesh of your hips where he forces you tighter onto his face. All that’s left to give is a tiny sting of pain to send you reeling and crying out his name, so his large hand cracks down on an asscheek, several filthy slaps, with the swirl of his tongue still on you.

He alternates, working and circling open your tender hole to motioning down onto pulsating clit-sucks in such perfect rhythm, it’s like the epic beat of a hit song—and in an instant, it must be your favorite tune, because now you’re singing out along with it, belting out with a searing vibrant orgasm that courses through you.

Your elbows and knees wobble, near to collapse, but he’s caught you just in time with a slide of his arm underneath your tummy, holding you up with another hand by your outer thigh.

And you feel entirely supported by him, in many more ways than one.

You’re weakened and topple sweetly into the water, flopping backward into his broad chest. He draws in your back from behind, whispering warmth in your ear. “Daddy’s turn.”

The way your cheeks beam in post-glow daze has him tender-hearted. “Aw, my little cherrybomb…” he brushes away clumped strands of hair plastered to your face, “...like how only I can make you feel?”

Being older than you means he’s more experienced. No one other than Gojo has even remotely had you cumming as hard, so you can't deny his accuracy. You’d never dream of denying it anyway.

“Without question, daddy,” a little raspy voice so sincere, your body twirling in the clear blue liquid to face him outright, telling him point blank, “you’re the only one that has the power to make me feel this good.” Nearly sung like a lullaby off your tongue, you stare up at him with the most earnest eyes.

The sweet innocence of your praise is so astounding it raises his eyelids to widen so greatly until the appearance of the moon’s reflection fully shines in his eyes ; a genuine response to your unwavering devotion. Then it’s gone in a flash, because his eyelids shut when he’s peppering a line of kisses over your forehead and his dick is forcibly throbbing against you.

“Mhm yeah, you feel that?” He sucks on your earlobe, it’s still between lips as his whisper vibrates on the sensitive skin. “Want you bad. Help your daddy out now."

It’s nearly impossible to contain yourself when the all consuming thought and need in this moment is his grown cock in your hand, to supply him with anything and everything that would satisfy him, service him with the utmost amount of pleasure possible it’s as though he would never again know of pain.

Plunging forward and splashing further into the water, you hurl yourself onto him, a hand wrapped around his cock, an arm thrown around his nape. You pull him into another session of sucking one another’s faces, feverish mouths echoing moans into each other while you fist him below the water.

Gradually, the motion pushes him further and further backward until his spine hits an eventual rocky wall, arms-length away from the flow of the waterfall.

Gojo hauls you up by your thighs to wrap over his hips, simply wanting you to feel how hard he is from the outside, skin against skin, tenderly outlining the full protruding length of himself over your folds. Teasing between velvety lips, he’s grinning at how much of your slick can be felt through the water as he rhythmically runs his hard cock to bump up against your clit. Pleasure erupts through you with uncontrollable shuddering, from the remembrance of how unbelievable it could be just to have Gojo rubbing over you, the rush of the hazy memory all comes flooding back to you now.

Your head cannot withstand its own weight any longer, dropping dead into his fragrant shoulder, the scent of his neck driving you to delirium, inducing an almost intolerable desire for him.

“Enjoying yourself?” He chimes, but you are barely able to muffle out an agreement with your mouth muted against his skin. The best you can give is a tiny nod and it feels you’ve mildly blacked-out behind closed lids. “Tell me how much you need it.” He commands.

“I-I…” you start, but it dies in your throat, “...I...I–”

“Come on, baby,” he coos, a little smug, a bit more pride in his request, “I wanna hear it.”

You're at a loss, struggling to form coherent sentences, already helplessly weak from his cock and it's not even inside of you yet.

“...so...s-so bad, please…I–”

A wordless understanding soon emanates between you both, suspended in the air surrounding you. It’s a palpable exchange of etheric empathy. He understands–identifies, since you have never spent this much time apart before and seeping into the gravity of that is also beginning to make him feel dizzied. “That's it…that’s it…you can do it, sweets, you can tell me...” He rocks his taunting hips, hypnotizing your needy hole from the outside with the prodding head of his cock as you try once more to formulate a sensical sentence.

“D-don't think…I've ever…wanted anything–so badly–I-I–”

The more you babble, the harder he throbs.

“Daddy, I just–!” You feel actual tears starting to well up in your eyes, “–missed you so much-!”

An unexpected pang in your chest induces a flood of tears from your lower lash line. It’s only obvious to you now that you’ve been harboring this specific avoided emotion for a while, possibly even weeks. Trying to keep “strong”, convincing yourself you’ve been fine, or shoving down anything that would surface from within you about making the distance a bigger deal than you thought it ought to be.

Feeling so foolish, naive, to be crying with a mix of anguished pleasure for him, you lightly choke on your resistance to all of it, but without any ability to stop it.

He slows, then halts to observe your face, detecting the moisture below your eyes. It catches him by surprise. Concerned for you, he speaks with care.

“Aww, angelll…”

A tear streams down your cheek where he stops it with his lips, kissing it away, and Gojo feels his cock swell harder.

Undeniably horny by your undeniable ache for him.

A hand swipes over your face, shushing you to calm. “Shh…that's alright, okay baby, shh, you did good–so good speaking up for me–letting me know how much you want me…” soothing tingles by gentle scratches of his hands along your back quell you, “...re-laaa-x…shh…that was good enough for me now.”

Your cheeks are burning, born out of the pit of stupidity you feel as it pools in your stomach. Yet still, you continue to tear up, subtle quivering comes in waves over your body and has him offering you more words of comfort.

“...Nnnm…I missed you too, hey, hey–” he cups your face, making sure you’re truly hearing him. “–I did too, I really did…I know, baby, I know…” since you’re already crying, he might as well give you a better reason to, in the only way he knows to make it better, “...missed you somethin fierce…here–lemme show you how much. Come’ere–”

Lining up with your drenched hole, he guides you down onto the smooth stretch of his thick cock and your breath constricts. It has your face contorting from the dizzying nature of it all, denting your nails into his broad back. Gojo’s glimmering eyes connect with yours, reflecting back a shared intensity. Your gazes mirror one another as two pairs of eyelids are drooping together in unison, carefully examining each other’s faces as you adjust to him and he finally bottoms out inside you. But he grants you mere moments before the overwhelming thirst for you is far too irresistible to bear any longer.

He surrenders to the will of his body as if possessed, chasing more of the sweet suck of your cunt in every thrust and now you’re crying from something else entirely. Strong, effortless, determined pumps of his length drive into your core, the way he knows you’ll always end up begging for, although now, no longer does he want to ask that of you.

In this instance, his sole purpose becomes your unspoken bliss, to anticipate your desires without you needing to word them, yearning to spare you any further trace of strain or exertion. He intends to allow you the full sensation of simply craving his strong presence, pistoning into you, to let you relinquish control, entrusting him to tend to every remaining detail of your pleasure.

“Does this make you happier, baby? Hm?” Still carrying you, he turns a 180, switching spots to push your back against the flat rocky surface and ram you up against the wall. “Does it? H-huh? Ngh. Does it make you ha-happy?”

The splishing of the waterfall and his fierce rhythmic grunts are the only sounds filling your ears. You nearly match the waterfall as more tears spill and that’s when you’re sure he doesn’t require a verbal reply. The confirmation of your entire body responding to him renders sufficient, like how your fingers instinctively entwine with his hair, gentle tugs at snowy locks for extra support, you then give a few wobbled nods.

But now he needs a little more support and leverage, gearing up for that one ideal angle in you.

Hanging low and tilted just overhead, rests a bamboo tree. Reaching that one sweet gummy spot inside of you will mean reaching one of his arms up to grab hold of it. Gojo steadily raises both of your connected bodies so both waists together are just a hair above the waterline. He is up on his toes, tight grip on the bamboo culm, when he pounds you to perfection, deep and generous, positively wrecking you ‘till you’re wailing from your finish in blinding satisfaction.

And daddy fucks you raw into the night, again and again, through to the edge of dawn; then later on, when the birds begin to chirp and you are fully spent in his bed – so fucking cute when you’re fast asleep – Gojo realizes he won’t ever grow tired of the faint traces of cherry smeared across his pillows.

. + .

+ link2masterlist .

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wandamaximoffsbadgirl · 2 months

Text

Little Girl Gone Chapter 2

You Haven't Changed a Bit

Mob Boss!Natasha x Mob Boss!Fem!Reader, Mommy!Wanda Maximoff x Mob Boss!Fem!Reader

Warnings: Nothing really this is a rather fluff chapter, Natasha is a condescending bitch towards the end

A/N: I love the dynamics that are being built between R and W and her boys in this chapter

The sunlight filtering through the windows is what stirred you awake, but it was the weight on top of you that truly woke you. Eyes shooting open to find Wanda’s body partially on top of your own. Her leg and arm draped over you and you realized you had some how had made it closer to the middle instead of the edge you had forced yourself to when you fell asleep.

Carefully you untangled yourself hoping not to wake Wanda, but as you shifted your weight she stirred. “Mmmm....Y/N?” She called out as you sat up, legs already over the edge.

“Yes?” You call back over your shoulder, grabbing your pants and pulling them on.

“What happened last night? I thought you were staying up all night?” She asked, concern running through her.

“Natasha came by. I gave her half the money. Told her I’d meet her at noon with the rest.” Grabbing your button up and throwing it on and moving over to grab your gun from under the pillow to put it back in it’s place.

“Is she going to leave us alone?” Wanda crawls across the bed so she’s in front of you, staring up at you. She was in a cute pink slip, one of the thin straps falling down and giving you a lovely view of her chest.

“I told her too, but she never actually agreed to it so if it’s okay with you I’d like you to come back with me, of course the boys will come too.”

“To the place I was taken yesterday?” She asks, tilting her head.

“Yes sweetie that’s my home.” Her eyes widen.

“That place was huge. That’s your house?” She sounded bewildered.

“Well when you’re head of the local mafia around here you kind of have the perks of a big house.” Sure your group was nothing big compared to Natasha’s or even T’Challa’s groups, but yours was family.

You pick up your phone, calling on your friend and driver, Happy. “I’ve called for my driver and I would appreciate the three of you staying with me until I have things settled. I promise there will be no safer place for your boys.” You put your hands on her shoulders giving a reassuring squeeze and a soft smile.

You couldn’t lie to yourself, Wanda was a beautiful woman who you’d love to have, but you also truly just don’t want to see her end up like you because of Natasha especially since she has kids. She has to be around for them. She gives a nod and a soft smile back. You don’t miss her biting on her bottom lip as she slips off the bed.

“I need to get dressed and get the boys ready.” She tells you softly. While Wanda gets everything together you get ahold of Carol to let her know what’s going on.

“Make sure nothing bad is going on by the time we get there. Am I understood?” I ask through the phone and she knows what I mean.

“Yes Ma’am. Everything will be perfect when you get here with them. You have my word.” You hang up the call as you wait in the kitchen for the three of them and of course the boys are nothing but questions.

You can tell Wanda is getting overwhelmed by all the questions the boys are throwing her way over all the sudden changes especially from Billy who you’ve quickly learned is the more sensitive of the two boys. You take a deep breath and kneel down, getting the boys attention.

“Listen boys I know you have a lot of questions for your mom, but I want you guys to look at this like a vacation! My house that we’re going to stay at for a bit has a pool with all the toys you can think of! It has a slide and a waterfall! I have a room that is filled with every video game system and just about all their games. I have a room that has a pool table and a foosball table and air hockey!” You tell them, slowly seeing their faces light up. “I have a room that’s like a movie theater with popcorn and candy and soda. I have just about everything your little hearts could want or need and if I don’t have it, guess what?”

“What?” Billy asks making me smile.

“I will make sure we get it, okay? Does that sound fair enough?” The two boys nod in agreement. “So you’re going to stop asking your mom so many questions and instead help her pack, right?” Another nod in agreement to your words as they turn towards their draws, grabbing things they want and need while Wanda gives you a smile and you smile back.

You stand up motioning for Wanda to follow while the boys pack up. You two head towards the kitchen. You lean against the counter, crossing your arms, Wanda standing opposite of you.

“I hope I didn’t overstep by saying I’d get them things if we didn’t have it. I obviously don’t have kids and I honestly just wanted them to stop asking you questions because I could see it was overwhelming you since you weren’t sure how to answer.” Wanda reached her hand out to you, her hand gripping onto your arm. She rubbed it softly as you looked at her and you could tell she had done it as a friendly gesture to reassure you it was okay, but when you felt her hand tighten on your bicep you can tell she gets distracted for a moment.

“We’ll cross the bridge when we come to it, okay? If it’s something I find unreasonable for them to be asking it will be a no. Make sure they always ask me and you get confirmation from me.”

“That sounds like a deal to me. Always ask Mom.” You smirk at her as she pulls back her hand.

“I-I’m going to go grab my bags and check on the boys.” She stammers as she heads back upstairs, leaving you there chuckling to yourself.

======================================================

“Wow!” The boys said in unison as they came through the front door. “Are you made of money Ms. Y/N?” Tommy asks.

“I work very hard for my money Tommy. This is what hard work can get you boys.” You tell them with a smile as they poke their heads around Carol comes over with a smile along with Kamala. Carol leans over whispering in your ear,

“Ma’am I tried to tell her it wasn’t a good time, but Maya is waiting in your office.” If the boys weren’t here you’d probably smack Carol so hard. Instead you plaster a smile on your face.

“Well boys, Wanda. I have to attend to some work issues, but Carol and Kamala here will show you around, okay?” The boys nod excitedly and Wanda takes the few steps over to you, a worried look in her eyes as she grips your arm. You give her a reassuring smile, leaning in to whisper,

“It’s nothing to do with Natasha. It’s a friend who doesn’t know what no means. I’ll be back shortly. I promise you’re safe with them.” She looks into your eyes confirming the truth in your words then nods, letting you go off to deal with the problem at hand as you head up to your office.

You open and close the sliding oak doors of your office stomping on the floor to get Maya’s attention as soon as she’s looking at you you sign,

“It really isn’t a good time Maya.” She rolls her eyes and signs back,

“I understand you met back up with Natasha.” You groan,

“Unfortunately.” Maya and you had met after being in similar situations of a mob boss taking advantage of you. Both of you wanted to be in charge so Maya tends to work in the shadows and also with the Tracksuits, she keeps them in line as much as anyone could. Mainly they’re muscle that the two of you use because they have maybe one braincell between all of them.

“So what are we doing about her?” She signs and you sit on your desk in front of her.

“Meeting up with her in a few hours and paying off a debt for this woman.” You bring up the security camera’s around the house showing Maya Wanda and her boys. “Natasha gave her a loan and then when she couldn’t pay it back right away she took Wanda and tried to do what she did to me. She’s under our protection now.” Maya nods,

“Are you keeping her here?” She signs.

“For the time being. I don’t trust Natasha.” You sigh. “Come with me to this meeting? I just need you as back up in the shadows incase things go sideways.” Maya signs for yes with a smile.

Carol was your right hand for most things, but Maya was your most trusted person. No one could replace her between her skills and companionship the two of you had formed over the past five years.

“Thank you.” You sign and she just lightly punches your arm before slipping out. Though she wouldn’t be there when you exited you knew she wouldn’t be far. Just in the shadows.

You watched the security monitors for a few minutes watching the boys enjoy the much bigger room they’d get to share. Kamala showing them their room along with all the fun rooms scattered about the house.

Your eyes flickered around until you spot Wanda and Carol in your room. It’s not where you had told Carol to take Wanda, but you’d let it slide for now. Your California King bed rather empty with just yourself. If Wanda wanted to stay there it would be fine by you.

======================================================

You sat in the café legs crossed and sipping on your usual order while looking at your phone while waiting for Natasha to show her face. You were always a person that goes by the rule, ‘if you’re on time you’re late.’ while Natasha always showed up five minutes or later to any meeting saying, ‘you hold the power that way.’ It always made you roll your eyes because you hated being late anywhere.

When she showed up at 12:15 you rolled your eyes at the tardiness. She grabbed her coffee before joining you.

“Well isn’t this fun. You playing the boss roll. All grown up now aren’t you?” She teases and another roll of your eyes.

“I’m not playing Natasha. I worked hard to get here.”

“No thanks to me.”

“Yeah. No thanks to you. I didn’t want this Natasha. You forced me into this life acting like you just wanted me to be able to protect myself.” You accused as you grabbed out the manila folder. “It’s all in there Tasha. So I need your word that you’ll be leaving Wanda Maximoff and her boys alone now that the loan plus interest is paid.” Natasha looked it through just as she had last night.

“One more thing and I’ll leave your new little toy alone.” You want to jump across the table and punch her in the face for her little comment, but you’re in a very public place for a reason and you won’t ever be the one to hit first.

“What is it Natasha? What could you possibly want?” You ask exasperated.

“You of course. One last time. You know since you walked out on me.” You feel your face pale; your whole body going hot and ears ring until you can’t hear anymore.

Did she really just ask you that? To sleep with her again? You could feel the familiar feel of bile in the back of your throat, the sound of a gunshot, the metal and sulfur in your nose like you were reliving that night all over again.

“You’ll leave them alone?” She nods. “Promise me.”

“I promise.”

“On Yelena’s life.”

“On Yelena’s life.” She repeats, and so you have no choice but to agree.

#ley speaks #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #ley writes #wanda x you #wanda maximoff fluff #wanda x reader

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wooataes · 8 months

Text

Real Eyes, Fake Lies (Part Five)

Pairing: soulmate!Lee Jihoon x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4K

Warnings: angst, Hanahaki AU, swearing, tooth rotting fluff, Jihoon is a tsundere and his emotions are all over the place, tears, mentions of bleach (for hair dye)

Summary: What do you do when you find out the one person that was created by the universe to be yours doesn’t want you back?

A/N: Thank you all for the ongoing love for my story! I cant thank you all enough for wanting more 🫶🏼 a special thanks to my gals Zan and Jess for helping me pretty much plan the whole story with me and wanting more always 🩷

-Tae💜✨🥰

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Jihoon stirs with a low groan, his eyes fluttering open as he blindly reaches for his phone. He winces at the bright screen displaying ‘03:12’ at him, the sounds of seven of his ten friends (plus his unwanted soulmate) sleeping around him.

He rubs at his eyes as he spots 3 unread messages, a small smile lining his lips as he skims over them.

Ji-ah 🖤: I’m sorry again I couldn’t be there with you, baby. 💕 I hope you’re having a good time!

Ji-ah 🖤 sent a photo

Ji-ah 🖤: guess what!! Unnie asked me to be her Maid of Honor! 😍

Jihoon smiles at the photo his girlfriend sent; an invitation from Ji-ah’s older sister officially asking her to be the Maid of Honor for her upcoming wedding, including a singular red rose and a pretty bracelet.

Jihoon truly didn’t mind how much time Ji-ah spent with her family. Almost every weekend she would travel to spend it with them, and he knew this. He sometimes would join her, but unlike his girlfriend, he enjoyed using his personal time to recharge from being social all week. Being an only child, for Jihoon, works out perfectly for his personality. He spends his time with his friends and girlfriend during the week, and his weekends usually recovering and recharging his social battery. Of course, Ji-ah and his friends were the exception, a small fondness having built up in his heart for his little circle of friends. He didn’t really know the close bond of a sibling, but doesn’t ignore the fact it must be like no other, considering how close Ji-ah is with her siblings, and how close you are with Seungcheol.

He reaches up to quickly type an excited congratulations for his girlfriend, with a ‘miss you’ and ‘can’t wait to see you’ thrown in. He doesn’t know why, but typing that out with his soulmate so close makes him feel a little bit sick.

Three different sets of voices can be heard from the kitchen, the only source of the light in the house filtering into the living room where the guests slept for the night. It catches Jihoon’s attention as he starts to focus on the conversation.

“Y/N.” His best friend’s voice is soft but can be easily heard from Jihoon’s position in the living room, your name piquing his interest.

“Yes, Soonyoung.” You reply back in a monotone voice. Jihoon’s eyes wander around the sleeping bodies to spot Soonyoung’s soulmate curled up on a mattress, arm draped over a pillow to suffice for his cuddle buddy not being there.

“I know you’ve said it before…” he sounds serious, and you heave a heavy sigh. “But… would you love me if I turned into a worm?”

Jihoon scoffs quietly, shaking his head at the silly question. Of course Soonyoung would ask that.

“Oh yes,” You reply back enthusiastically. “I would make up a little enclosure for you, and make sure you get enough sunlight to grow big and strong.”

“Really?” Soonyoung sounds excited.

“No.” You deadpan, resulting in a loud gasp of betrayal from Soonyoung, and a loud giggle erupting from the third voice, your brother.

Jihoon couldn’t help it. He cracked a smile as he now stared at the ceiling, listening quietly to the others in the next room.

“Whyyyyyy?” Soonyoung whined, and by the sounds you make, Jihoon assumes that his best friend has tried to cuddle up to you. “You know I would do it for you!”

“Do I?” You hum, swatting at his arm. “Hop off you giant oaf, you’ll get it on your clothes.”

“Oh please,” he scoffs. “Like I haven’t dealt with bleach before.

Bleach? Jihoon balk’s, pursing his lips in confusion.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Your brother asks Soonyoung.

“Nothing good ever comes out of 3am sleep deprived choices, y’know.” You remind your friend.

“That didn’t stop you both from putting it on your scalps, so you’re just as bad as I am, if not worse!” Jihoon can tell that Soonyoung is flailing his arms around as he speaks. He knows him too well.

“Yah!” You bark back, your soulmate chuckling softly as he hears you swat Soonyoung, resounding a loud yelp. “You peer pressured us, you fiend!”

“Nah, you did it because you loooooove me!” He sings, making loud kissy noises.

“Yah!” Your brother barks now, another smack and yelp resounding in the room. You and your brother are definitely similar, that’s for sure. “Don’t tease my sister, you little gremlin!”

“Wah…” Soonyoung gasps, pressing a hand over his chest. “Betrayed by my favourite hyung…”

“Ooh, don’t let Hannie-Oppa hear.” You giggled as a timer rings out. “Okay, we gotta wash it out.” After a brief pause, you click your fingers. “Are you gonna help?! You got us into this mess!”

“Don’t yell at me!” Soonyoung whines, but when the three of you all start giggling, Jihoon lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He blinks slowly with a soft yawn, letting sleep take over him once again.

When Jihoon wakes next, he groans as he shields his eyes, the morning sunlight filtering into the living room as Soonyoung pushes the curtains open.

“Are you sure she isn’t in her room?” Jeonghan calls out again from the bottom of the staircase.

“I’ve looked three times already!” Your brother shouts back, his heavy footsteps stomping through the house. “She’s not here, I don’t know how long she’s been gone but we need to go-”

“Hyung, it’s alright. All of her things are still here.” Soonyoung calls back as Jihoon sits up, leaning his head back against the headrest of the couch, rubbing at his eyes.

“What’s going on?” Jihoon yawns.

“Y/N isn’t here.” Wonwoo replies, running his fingers through a half asleep Mingyu’s hair, head nestled sleepily against his shoulder.

Jihoon’s eyes widen as he glances at your brother, who’s once long black locks last night were now dyed a bleached platinum white, disheveled from running his fingers through it constantly. Jeonghan, bless his soul, reaches out to pat at his soulmate’s hair to calm him down.

“I’m sure she has just gone for a morning walk, hyung.” Seokmin tries to rationalize, smiling sleeplily. “You know she likes to do that.”

“I don’t know.” He grumbles, his arms taking solace around his soulmate’s waist to stop him from fidgeting. “Last time we couldn’t find her…”

Jihoon frowns as he remembers Seokmin’s words from the fateful day he figured out you were soulmates. Surely you wouldn’t be that silly to run away again.

“Hyung, don’t freak out.” Soonyoung smiles, patting Seungcheol’s shoulder. “Really. You don’t need to get so worked up. She’s grown a lot since all those years ago. I know she wouldn’t leave without any notice.”

“Who wouldn’t leave?” Your voice fills the room, and everyone’s heads all spin to you with wide eyes.

You’re walking through the hallway in a pair of blue faded jeans with rips in the knees paired with a large oversized black hoodie, pulling out and placing your AirPods into their case with one hand and placing a large plastic bag on the counter with the other. Only your left side of your body is visible to the others, your long dark hair covering your face. The jingling of a leash rings through the room as a fluffy white dog runs excitedly across the room to your surprised brother, wagging her tail before trotting through the living room.

“Kkuma-ya!!!” Seokmin squeals happily as the dog, who now Jihoon notices up close has a baby pink clip holding her fur out of her face, leans her head against Seokmin’s leg. He reaches down to scratch behind her ears with a giggle.

“See? I told you!” Soonyoung beams proudly at Seungcheol. “I know my best friend.”

“Yah! Where have you been?!” He yells, rushing to you with Jeonghan following close behind.

“What do you mean?” You ask with a tilted head, pulling out the 3 cup trays from the bag. “Didn’t you see the note I left on the fridge? I took Kkuma to work to get some coffees and some birthday treats for Soonie.”

Seungcheol balked, and Jeonghan just turned to smirk at him.

“You didn’t check the fridge, did you, darling?”

Your brother just grumbles with a pout on his lips, taking one of the iced coffees from the trays, leaning over and giving you a thankful but also relieved kiss on the forehead. You just smile sweetly at him as Jeonghan takes a hot cup of tea.

“Thank you, Lady Bug.” He smiles and bumps your hip with his before following his soulmate to occupy a small section of the couches with a donut in hand.

“Noona works at a bakery?” Chan’s eyes widen as he finally pulls the blankets off him at the sight of enough plastic cups for everyone in the room, and a box of various cupcakes, slices and donuts.

“It’s nothing special, Chan-ah.” You laugh, taking two of the three trays, turning towards the boys. “But the employee discount works pretty well when you have friends who are addicted to caffeine and sugar.”

“Woah!” Junhui voices what everyone is thinking. “Your hair!”

Jihoon’s eyes go wide once again as you face them completely, the right side of your hair bleached the same platinum white as your brother, your cheeks turning pink as they all stare.

“What? Is it bad?” You stand in place, your face getting darker and darker.

“Of course not!” Seokmin speaks up as none of the others seem to be able to form words.

Jihoon’s cheeks are flushed a dusted pink as he takes in the innocent look of worry and shyness on your face. It looks anything but bad. You look fantastic, he thinks, if he was single, he would even go as far as thinking you look-

“You look hot.” Hansol blurts out, your face somehow turning even darker. Jihoon side-eye’s the newcomer to the group with a frown.

“Wow, you have such a way with words.” Seokmin laughs, a proud grin on Soonyoung’s face.

“What can I say, I have that rizz.” He retorts with a laugh.

“More like harizzment.” Mingyu huffs, Chan guffawing at the pun along with Junhui.

“Thank god you said it first, babe!” Seungkwan grins, rising from the floor. “I thought it wouldn’t mean much from me, since I call you hot all the time.” He laughed happily, reaching out and running his fingers through it. “My best friend is so stunning!” He squeals, taking one of the trays from your hands to hand out the usual drinks to Junhui, Chan, Hansol and himself. “Thank you for getting these for us, Bug!”

“O-oh..” you’re flustered, laughing quietly as you pass Seokmin, Soonyoung, Mingyu and Wonwoo their drinks. “Thanks, guys.” You laugh nervously, reaching up to tuck your hair behind your ear before grabbing the last two drinks.

“Yah, don’t thank them!” Soonyoung smirks. “Thank me! I’m the genius who decided it was a great idea to change your look last night! You’re welcome, Lovebug!” He laughs proudly.

Jihoon blinks out of his daze as he realizes you’re making your way over to him, cheeks still flushed. “Uh, Soonie said that you’re not much of a coffee drinker. I don’t drink coffee either, so I just got you what I normally get, a hot chocolate. I hope that’s okay.” You push the paper cup gently into his hands, unable to look up into your soulmate’s face as you sink into a beanbag on the floor. “I don’t know if you like marshmallows or anything, so they’re on the counter-”

“This is perfect, actually.” Jihoon stops your rambling as he takes a sip of the warm drink. “Thank you, Y/N.”

You glance up at him at his words, giving him a gentle smile and nod. When he’s sure you’re not looking at him, he lets the small smile take over his face at your consideration. The chocolate is way too sweet for his taste, he prefers the bitter taste of dark chocolate. But, he couldn’t find it in himself to reject the drink from you. The satisfaction and pride on your face when Jihoon told you the drink was perfect is too memorable for him to want to strip away from you. Instead, he grins and bears the overly sweet chocolatey drink for you.

“See, I told you he’d like it.” He overhears his best friend whisper to you, and you smile into your paper cup. Kkuma climbs up into your lap, wagging her tail happily as you use your free hand to run it through her fur.

If he was honest, Jihoon doesn’t know why he so blindly accepted the sugary sweet drink. If it were Soonyoung or Mingyu, he would’ve rejected them without a second thought. Why has he suddenly accepted your drink without any thought for his own likes?

You didn’t have to get this drink for him. Heck, you didn’t even need to be talking to him period for what he did to you. You are too nice for your own good, Jihoon thinks. He didn’t deserve someone as good as you as a soulmate. You didn’t deserve such a jerk like him, either. One too many times lately, Jihoon again lets his thoughts take over as he absentmindedly sipped from his cup, again not noticing the eyes of your brother’s soulmate watching him; studying him.

“Y/N,” Seungkwan broke Jihoon out of his spiraling thoughts, and you hum in response. “How did you manage to get Mr Park to accept your hairstyle for Mamma Mia?” He tilts his head. “Is he going to get a random ass wig for you or?”

“Oh, about that.” You laugh, shaking your head. “Nah, I’ve decided I’m not auditioning this year.”

You swear you could’ve heard a pin drop in the room as the uncomfortable silence swells.

“I’m sorry…” Seungkwan starts again as you avoid his gaze. “Are you telling me that the one musical that you have dreamed of doing for years is being done and you’re not going to audition for the main role?”

“Uhhh…” you shrink into the couch beside Soonyoung, almost curling into him. “Yeah?”

“What is wrong with you?” He bellows, and you flinch. “You’ve wanted the role of Sophie for years, Y/N! Now you’re pretty much guaranteed and you won’t do it?”

“Boo..” you sighed as Soonyoung wrapped an arm around you.

“No, I’m not going to let you throw this opportunity away!” He insists, his frown evident.

“I just…” your voice is smaller now, teeth sinking into your bottom lip. “I really didn’t want to have to pretend to be in love for countless hours of rehearsals and on top of that, seven performances.” Jihoon winces as he can feel your anxiousness and sadness brewing in your stomach, and he, alongside the rest of the group, eyes your friend to see his reaction.

Seungkwan sighs, reaching out and letting his hand rest on your knee. “I’m sorry for shouting,” you place your hand gently over his, nodding wearily. “I just love you, Bug,” You don’t love me, you think. “And I want only the best for you. But if you think this would only hurt you more in the long run, then I won’t bother you about it anymore, okay?”

“Thanks, Boo.” You hum quietly as you take another sip from your cup. “I’ll just be behind the scenes for this one. The costume team needs more helpers so that’s where I’ll be this year.” You laugh with a hollow smile, before you glance at Soonyoung, who still held you.

“You have to have some cake, Soonie.” You change the topic swiftly, and much to your relief, everyone goes along with it and takes multiple treats from the bakery.

Jihoon is the only one who doesn’t eat, though. He quietly sips on his sickly sweet drink in his hands as he occasionally glances to you, who seems to thrive in the fact your friends are enjoying the goods that you purchased for them.

“I missed you.” Jihoon hums as he takes Ji-ah into his arms late Sunday night.

She had just arrived back from visiting her family, and she let herself melt into his arms. “And I missed you!” She cooed, lips pressing softly to his cheek. He smiled as they both settled down onto his bed, Ji-ah snuggling sweetly against his chest.

“Do you have to go every weekend though?” He jokes playfully, his hand stroking along her arm absentmindedly.

“You’re getting a bit greedy with me, Hoonie.” Ji-ah smiles as her arm drapes around his waist. “You get me all week every week! You know how much my family means to me, you big goof.” She giggles softly as Jihoon lets out a chuckle. “You can always come with me if you miss me that much, you know.”

“Ah, I’ll keep that in mind.” He plays along, smiling.

“Soonyoung’s party was good?” Ji-ah asks sleepily as Jihoon nods.

“Mhm,” he hums, looking up to the ceiling for a moment. “He was ecstatic the entire night. Never knew that someone could still be so excited about a birthday.” He laughs quietly as Ji-ah giggles along with him for a moment before going silent.

Jihoon watches his girlfriend drift off to sleep in his arms, leaving him alone with his thoughts once again. He closes his eyes in an attempt to try and sleep, his stomach churning slightly in guilt. He’s cuddling up to his not-soulmate while his actual soulmate is all alone and feeling the comfort and contentment he’s feeling.

You need to learn to get over it, Jihoon. You’ve made your bed, you can lay in it. He needs to be tough on himself; it’s the only way he will be able to get through his inner turmoil.

For a week, everything goes without a hitch. Jihoon is in a good place with Ji-ah and quite frankly, with you as well. He finds himself not waking up most nights with overwhelming emotions, and he begins to wonder if you’ve started healing. He hopes you have. You have become Jihoon’s desk mate for Film Studies class, and are due at the end of the week to have your first big study session to discuss what film you’ll pick to present about. You’re civil, and even at your third class together, you had brought two familiar paper cups; one for you and one for your soulmate. It’s the first class of the day, and after an explanation to Jihoon that you just finished the early morning shift at the bakery, it really was no trouble to get him another hot chocolate. Like last time, he grins and bears the overly sweet drink, but smiles to himself when he sees the satisfied look on your face.

Auditions have begun in the auditorium, with Jihoon having to sit and endure hours worth of playing the same four chords of the main song of the musical at the piano by the stage. He loathed it, really. He didn’t know that this is what he signed up for when he applied to be in the orchestra for the play. Despite his reasons, Jihoon trudges on without complaint; at least he can practice his piano skills and improve his progression in that area. He does, however, complain to himself at the majority of the drama club auditioning. Half of them can’t hold a tune to save their life, and by Bad Singer #14, he is beginning to think that this musical will be a lost cause. Maybe you should have auditioned after all. He wouldn’t mind another hot chocolate drop, either.

With a sigh, Jihoon adjusts his backpack on his shoulder as he glances up to the sky. It’s full of dark oranges, pinks and purples, and he feels himself smile. He had grown fond of sunsets since he found you - he decided after a week that this was the best time of day. He always likes that no sunset is ever the same; unique in its own way and always breathtaking to everyone who takes the view in. These sunsets were his favourite so far, though. The setting sun hits the wispy clouds just right, making the sky erupt in eye popping colours with the tiniest little stars beginning to emerge.

He takes a long breath as he watches the sky above him, letting his feet take him subconsciously along the usual route to his home. He finds himself slowing down and coming to a stop about five minutes away from his destination, not surprisingly in front of your house. His eyes widen as he sees none other than you, his soulmate sitting on top of the roof of your home, headphones on and, just like Jihoon, staring at the sunset.

You have a dreamy smile on your face as you pull a Polaroid camera from your side and take a snapshot. As you place the film beside you, you take some photos from your phone now, your hums quiet, but loud enough to travel down to where Jihoon stands by your gate, observing you. The wind is blowing your hair gently in the breeze, a shiver running up your body as you wrap your cardigan tighter around you. You type a little longer on your phone before taking a long sigh and start to carefully rise up and make your way down the slope of your roof and down onto the little balcony in front of what Jihoon assumes to be your bedroom window. You take one last look at the sunset with a gentle smile before you step inside, closing the window behind you. Your soulmate waits for five minutes more to make sure you don’t come out again, and once he is satisfied, he turns and starts to walk back to his home once more.

Once Jihoon is settled in his bed, he breathes out a long sigh before feeling a warmth of comfort begin to roll through his body. He wonders what makes you feel so content and comfortable, but welcomes the feeling nonetheless. He is scrolling through his useless Instagram timeline mindlessly before finding himself hovering his thumb over the Search button. After a moment of hesitation, he types in your name into the search bar, clicking on your profile without a moment to lose. He stares at your profile picture for a moment, laughing quietly at the picture being the same white dog he saw at your home, Kkuma. He feels his stomach swell at the sight of your latest picture, in both sadness and guilt.

Jihoon heaves a breath. Your mother. He blinks before scrolling through your feed slowly. There’s the occasional photo of Soonyoung and your brother, some of your theatre performances and outings with your friends, but the majority of your posts were all of the sky. Varying sunsets flood your feed, each picture more stunning than the next. Your captions are almost always the same, each one being a thank you for your mother painting the sky for you, in your words, but Jihoon notices the ones after you found each other were more detailed. You could finally witness your mothers beauty the way the world intended it to be, and Jihoon weeps.

He weeps for your mother, whose life got cut so short for selfish reasons, he weeps for your brother who had to navigate helping look after a whole other human being before he was ready, and he weeps for you, his soulmate, who lost everything at such a young age and for the way he ripped away the one once of hope you had left, whose heart he broke more than it already was for nothing more than what he selfishly wanted. You, who goes out of your way to try to avoid him so you don’t interrupt his relationship with his not-soulmate. You, who offered him your umbrella on your first proper interaction so he wouldn’t get wet and who also offered to buy him drinks for class because you thought he’d want a pick me up for the first class of the day.

You may be feeling as fine as you could be, but Jihoon feels nothing but guilt for stripping everything you hoped for from you.

Real Eyes, Fake Lies Taglist

@cinnamoroxie @enhacolor @mikachu-chu @jojowantstocry @changbinisms @scarlet789 @i-dont-give-a-fok @im-gemmy @shookyungsoo @ametheyistheart @friendlywraith @kawennote09 @coupddeongie @sunooschubbycheeks @zgzgzh @mar-627 @side-angel @kuleo26 @deltamoon666 @snowgirlfallen @lixiel0ver @phenomenalgirl9 @sumzysworld @vixensss @seokmatchu @etaerealboy @milopenne @jinyoungie0922 @chickenscoups @zadkielr @weebotakuboy

#seventeen angst #seventeen fluff #seventeen x reader #woozi x reader #Woozi Angst #woozi fluff #Lee Jihoon x reader #Lee Jihoon angst #Jihoon x reader #Jihoon Angst #Jihoon fluff #Lee Jihoon fluff #seventeen fanfic

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writingforatwistedworld · 1 year

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Bigger request that I will cut in smaller pieces so I can serve soup.

Self-aware au

WARNINGS: Yandere themes, murder, manipulation, implied imprisonment, death, cannibalism, obsession, possessiveness, unhealthy relationship

I do not take any responsibility for you reading this no matter which age group you are from!

Entering your world

Azul felt like an octopus out of water

When he had heard Jade yelling out a warning it was already too late and he was already falling down the stairs, a student he made a deal with not too long ago standing not too far, his hands lowering themselves from the pushing him

And now he was laying on the floor in a place he didn't recognize

Moonlight filtered through the window of the room and a sleeping figure almost completely covered by a blanket was illuminated by its light and the light from the phone they were laying next to, indicating that they fell asleep whilst using it

Did he teleport to a different place? Azul still felt the burning sensation of the hard stone of the stairs hitting his body so he might have done that out of desperation...

And desperate he was when you turned over in your sleep and he could see your face

And thus, the screaming began

Imagine his surprise, no his shock after seeing the person he had admired, sought after for so long laying in front of him in their pajamas

Although, it would be better to say you did lay in your pajamas because now you were jumping up in fear for your life

But after fearing that a madman had broken into your house life with Azul was pretty nice

Azul is a pretty good cook from running Mostro Lounge so him making dinner is like going to an expensive restaurant

There is that thing about him wanting to pay you rent though…

You see, Azul is not someone who wants to leech (haha, get it?) off of someone

So, of course, he will give you money… though it is might be way too much

How he gets it?

You know, just some side jobs… a few contracts… give him a month and he will have the cafe down the street because the owner used it in a contract with Azul

“But he doesn’t have the twins so there is no way that he is dangerous” oh darling, you have seen NOTHING

Yeah, Azul isn’t good in sports, Azul hates anything that has to do with it so there is no way he will get ripped and start beating people into submission (also, that is below his level) but my man has tactics

In fact, he could haggle you out of your house, your job, your family (basically everything you own) whilst you walk happily away from the deal with nothing but a single shell in your pocket

Soon he will propose that you simply stay at home whilst he earns the money

He is just so thankful that you took him in so let him repay you

That repayment might end in him making you dependent on him but who am I to tell you that? Surely you have already understood what he is tryi- why are you saying yes?

Say goodbye to freedom. Say goodbye to your friends and family. Say goodbye to privacy

Although Azul has built up (scarily fast) his life in this world that still doesn’t mean he feels very safe here

Everyone is a human and who knows what scientists would do to him once they find out that he is capable of magic

So he is clingy… you might have lost blood circulation to your lower body once or twice due to him being unseperatable from you

If someone somehow (don’t ask me how) got close to you though? Oh they are done

Remember that haggling thing? Yeah that but with less haggling and more “I force you into a contract and then you will meet your doom”

They do serve desserts at cafes… wouldn’t eat those at his though

You would be surprised if you knew how easy it is to hide human remains in pastries

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salmonskinrolltf · 7 days

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hey there these video tapes sound pretty far out. The thing is, I’m this awkward, average looking gay dude who is slowly approaching a mid life crisis. I work as a math teacher at a local community college. And my days are filled with teaching students and my nights are spent wondering what I did with my life. Anyways, I really wanted to watch the Neighbors movie with Zac Efron. I’ve had the biggest crush on his obnoxious frat boy character! I mean that body is insane!

You eagerly tear open your Be Kind Rewind package and pull out the Neighbors VHS, barely noticing the die that falls into your hand. Nor do you notice your subconscious decision to toss it onto the floor, rolling a 3 in the process. As you place the tape in the VCR (has that always been there?), you hit rewind so it can play from the beginning.

You can’t wait to vicariously live the frat boy life you missed out on, even if it’s filtered through the perspectives of Seth Rogen and Rose Byrne as annoyed adults in their mid-30s, which hits much closer to home than you want it to. Excitement swells in your chest to the point that you feel almost giddy. You need to calm down a bit, so you take a swig of the beer you don’t remember putting on the table in front of you. Not on a coaster, even. That’s so unlike you…

As soon as the frothy beverage passes your lips, you feel a sense of calm dullness washing over you. You run a hand through your hair, which seems straighter and less tangled than usual.

As you take another sip, your phone pings with an email from a student asking about a particularly tough problem you presented during your lecture that day. You look up and see that the movie is still rewinding, so you suppose you have time to answer. But as soon as you open the email to explain the answer, the numbers start swimming in front of your eyes. The 3 should go… where again? And why the hell are there so many letters in there? This is math. Math is numbers, right?

Fuck, this is too frustrating. You toss your phone to the other end of the couch and chug the rest of your beer. You suddenly need to piss like a racehorse, so you head to the bathroom. Once you’re done, the dull buzzing in your head prevents you from even considering washing your hands, but you do stop by the sink when you see your reflection in the mirror.

Holy shit. Your face is, like, morphing or something. Your eyebrows thicken, your nose elongates, your jaw cracks and broadens. You feel a squirming feeling under your shirt and you tear it off, watching as muscle blossoms from beneath your skin. Any excess weight sloughing off, just like every last bit of body hair, leaving you with a taut and smooth torso. A brief flash of pain accompanies a tattoo that appears on your newly built pec.

You try to summon a feeling of shock, but you just… can’t. That dull buzzing is even stronger now. And you look too good, dude! You admire yourself in the mirror, not noticing as the bathroom furnishings change behind you.

You step out of the bathroom into the foyer of a house you no longer recognize. Well, you almost recognize it, but it’s definitely not YOUR house. You might have been able to put your finger on where you are, but something distracts you. A shirtless Zac Efron is standing in front of you with his shirt unbuttoned and a finger to his lips.

Is this… Are your fantasies coming to life? But in your fantasies, he’d be kissing you by now. He wouldn’t be giving you the shooing motion he’s currently doing. Za- Wait, what was his name? Zaccy? Zaddy? Teddy. Yeah, Teddy. Teddy whispers to you. “Get out of the way man, I’m pranking the new pledge.” You comply, your thoughts still hazy.

Your thoughts remain that way for the rest of the night. And for the rest of the week. And the rest of the month. But despite the constant dull roar, you put a few things together. You’re Pete Regazolli, proud vice-president of Delta Psi Beta. If you weren’t always this way, you don’t care to think about it. You’re still got a massive crush on Teddy, of course. You’re gay after all, and the whole frat knows it. But even if he isn’t into guys that way, at least you still get to spend all your time with him, staring at him when he’s not looking, touching him whenever you get the chance… A chance like the one you have right now, when you’re about to pull off a huge prank on this new pledge who has no idea what’s coming… Bro, it’s gonna be so lit!

#frat #Be Kind Rewind #Roll the Die #Dumber #reality change

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final-fantasy-imagines · 1 year

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Can I ask for ♡ “that’s more roses than i’ve ever seen in my life.” with Cloud for your event? 🥰

Aww, yes of course! Thank you for your request and happy Valentine's Day, dear anon! <3 Hope you enjoy the fic!

Prompt: “That’s more roses than I’ve ever seen in my life.“

Pairing: Cloud Strife x gn!reader

Red Red Roses - Cloud x gn!reader

Flowers aren’t something the people of Midgar see often. The entire city is built from cement and steel, a concrete jungle that hovers over the slums like an eerie beast, almost like it’s waiting to swallow them whole. And yet, you find a beautiful bouquet of red roses in your apartment when you return home that day.

There’s no card to tell you who sent the flowers but realistically speaking there’s only one person who has a key to your apartment. So, that means that – provided that no one climbed through your window which would be an awkward way to deliver flowers – Cloud must be the one behind the unexpected gift.

You step closer to the flowers, taking in their sweet scent as you admire the vibrant color of their petals. They look almost velvety, and you raise your hand to brush your fingertips against them, careful not to damage the delicate flower-heads. This is truly a wonderful surprise.

But it would be even better if Cloud had stayed here instead of dropping the roses off without a word. Of course, you know that he’s not the type of guy who enjoys big romantic gestures, that he still gets flustered about these things, even after dating for almost two years now. And it’s not even a big deal because that’s just how he is, and you love him, his quirks and flaws included, but you can’t help but wonder why he hasn’t given the flowers to you personally.

After all, Valentine’s Day only comes once a year. And it’s an important date for most couples.

But then again, you don’t really have a reason to be upset. After all, Cloud somehow managed to get his hands on a huge bouquet of roses, a flower that becomes rarer and rarer in Midgar.

With a sigh, you pull out your phone to send him a quick text to thank him for the flowers. It’s only then that you realize that you have three missed calls and two unread message – all from Cloud. Your heartbeat is speeding up as you tap on the screen to open the first text.

“I wanted to surprise you but you weren’t home, sorry that I didn’t wait for you. Tifa needed my help back in the slums. I hope you like the flowers,” you read before you tap on the second message: “I love you.”

A smile flashes over your face. “That stupid idiot,” you mumble to yourself, already scrolling through your contacts to call him, “that stupid, adorable idiot.”

The dial tone gets interrupted by noise at the other end of the line, followed by a muffled curse, then, you hear a breathless voice saying: “Hello?”

“Am I interrupting something?” you ask, clearly amused. “I can call again later.”

“No,” Cloud says, quick like a shot, and when you don’t reply, he adds, “we have to change the water filters at the bar – again – but that damn thing got stuck somewhere. But it’s really nothing that can’t wait for a couple of minutes.”

He clears his throat. “So, um… I assume you found the flowers?”

“Yes, thank you. They’re stunning” you say. “I was just wondering… where did you get them? That’s more roses than I’ve ever seen in my life.”

Cloud chuckles. “I have some connections.”

“Thought so.” You bit your bottom lip, darting another glance at the roses. “Cloud?”

“Hm?”

“Do you think we can see each other again soon? I want to thank you in person.”

“I can come over once we’re done here,” Cloud suggests after a brief moment of silence, the tone of his voice unusually soft now. You smile, although of course he can’t see you. “Yes. I’d love that.”

“Good. Oh, and, (Y/N)… Happy Valentine’s Day. I love you.”

Your smile grows wider, and you have to resist the urge to squeal with joy as you press the phone closer to your ear. Even after all this time, you still haven’t gotten used to him saying these three words to you.

“I love you, too.”

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed it please consider liking, reblogging and/or leaving feedback. I'd really appreciate the support! <3

Taglist: @sixdaysofsilverashes @theimaginaryheir @thevoidwriting

#cloud strife x reader #cloud strife x you #cloud strife imagine #ff7 x reader #final fantasy x reader #cloud strife fluff #ff7 fluff #ff7 imagine #gn!reader #gender neutral reader #vani's valentine's event

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russellius · 1 year

Text

THE TIMES: The Formula One driver and his father, Steve, on failed driving tests and sleeping in horseboxes

George

My earliest memories are of living in a mobile home while my parents built a house in a field in the middle of nowhere, near Wisbech in Cambridgeshire. I rode a pedal tractor around the site, hurtling through corners and reversing with a trailer.

At 25 I am the youngest of three. Cara is 37 and works as my personal assistant. Benjy is 36 and caught the karting bug when he was just 11. He was a brilliant driver, becoming a national and world karting champion. Unfortunately, even starting at such a young age, it was already too late for him to have a professional career. I took up karting when I was six and he helped me a lot. Benjy was like a mentor. He eventually gave up racing at university, so Dad’s focus was on me.

I didn’t see much of Dad during the week. He got up early and came home late running a business selling seeds and pulses. As a kid you miss having your father around, but it’s only now that I appreciate he was doing it so I could race at the weekend. Dad didn’t come from a lot and did well to create a successful business. We weren’t poor but we weren’t wealthy like the families of some F1 racing drivers now.

After long hours at work Dad drove us in a camper van to racetracks around the country. It was very much a family affair. Dad was the mechanic, Mum did the cooking and collected data on my driving. When I drove well, there were celebrations and the mood was great but because everyone was so emotionally and financially invested, when I suffered a poor weekend the mood was bad.

Dad has always been hard on the ones he loves. As a young kid, that was difficult to deal with. The pressure didn’t just filter down to me, it affected the whole family. I felt the weight of failure and expectation. If I made a silly mistake and spun off the track, I can now understand why Dad might have thought, “What the hell am I doing this for?” He had to work his arse off to support my racing, so if I didn’t put in enough effort, it must have been hard.

I now live in the world of F1, where tens of millions of pounds are spoken about like peanuts. Even in Formula Two or Three, every driver has to find huge amounts of money to get on the grid — it’s just crazy. When I was 16 and moving up through the ranks, I realised Dad didn’t have that sort of capital. I thought, “Oh shit, if I can’t find that sort of sponsorship or get picked by a team, my F1 dream is gone.”

Winning the F2 championship in 2018 was a big moment but I’ll never forget the day I signed for Williams F1 in September 2018. I was racing in F2 in Sochi, Russia, when Claire Williams, the deputy team principal at the time, called me in and offered a deal. Mum and Dad were the first people I told and they both cried. I told them to save their tears for when I won a race.

I joined Mercedes for the 2022 season, alongside Lewis Hamilton. It was a huge opportunity for me to learn and grow in F1, as well as show what I’m capable of. It was not an easy season for Mercedes but I feel very fortunate to be in this position, plus Lewis is such an incredible bloke on and off the track. He is so experienced, whereas I’m a 25-year-old who is just totally focused on trying to be the best F1 driver I can be. I’m pretty inspired by what he has achieved.

Dad is a strong character but he has become more emotional since his children have left home. He’s also friendlier now and doesn’t mind making a fool of himself from time to time. My only regret is that F1 doesn’t leave much free space to see each other but we do speak on the phone all the time.

Of course he still watches the pennies and will only fly economy — he won’t let me pay for their flights either. I know my parents can afford to fly business but it’s the principle for them. I want to make sure I reach a position with my racing where I can afford to give them the best in their retirement. They totally deserve it.

Steve

The F1 guys are OK on the racetrack but they are never as good as their dads on normal roads. George is always telling me to slow down as we approach a junction, though his mum thinks it’s fantastic when he takes her out and drives quickly.

There was just one occasion when George didn’t put the full effort in and it caused quite a commotion. He failed his first driving test at 17 because he thought that being a great driver on the track was good enough. He came home fuming that the examiner was wrong. We had to go back to the test centre in King’s Lynn so George could confront him. That didn’t go down well.

George was a cheeky little boy, a bit of a comedian. I worked a lot but it’s strange that I can only remember the racing side of his life, not watching him grow up at home. We enjoyed a nice life but had to work hard for it. I came from a family of farm workers with very little money and wanted to get away from agriculture and better myself but I ended up owning a wholesale seed business.

My wife, Alison, and I knew George was going to be a racing driver at the age of two. He was born on the track, coming to races to watch his brother and help out in the garage. He had a toy tractor that he rode around the pit lane and collected stickers from each race to stick on his “George Russell Racing” tractor.

As George progressed through the racing ranks it became more and more expensive. We invested in a motorhome to travel to races — before that I would sometimes sleep in a freezing horsebox. There were sacrifices. Alison and I didn’t go on our first holiday together until two years ago, on a trip to Lanzarote. By then we had been together for 38 years. People think that now George is in F1 we hang out with Lewis Hamilton and Toto Wolff, the Mercedes principal, every weekend in the sunshine, but it couldn’t be further from the truth. Now Alison and I rarely go to races because we don’t want to interfere.

It was hard letting George fly the nest because we had been a close family, always doing our racing together. He is methodical and organised but his feet are firmly on the ground. There are plenty of people in the family to put him straight if needed.

There’s no magic wand to become an F1 driver — it takes hard work and dedication. It was only when I stood on the track with George before his first grand prix that I looked up at the enormous crowd and thought, “Oh my God, we’ve actually got here.”

#george russell #f1 #*m #q #23 #(oh brother)#:)#ch

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wordsandrobots · 3 months

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Apropos of half-awake thoughts this morning, I've been considering the perennial subject of people coming into fan-works and making demands of the writer or artist in regards to their creative choices. You know, 'this is wrong', 'you should change this', 'make more!!!' etc. It's been quite some years since I had to deal with that kind of behaviour but I've seen it happen to other people and it always sucks. Today my brain has decided to connect it to Humphrey Smith.

Story time: the town I come from has three breweries. The reason for this is that the limestone we're built atop filters the local water, making it 1) good and hard and 2) easy to access. Technically we're a market town but brewing is the foundation of our modern economy.

Two of these breweries, John Smith's and Sam Smith's, are the remnants of the brewing empire started by John Smith, a Victorian gentleman endowed with truly spectacular mutton-chops and also money, who bought an existing brewery in the town before building a new, much more impressive one further up the street. After his death, the business was left to his brothers, one of whom would go on to leave the old brewery to his nephew Samuel. Thus, the empire split into two. Both halves are still operating and have been successful enough that the current owner of Sam Smith's -- Humphrey -- is the biggest land-owner in the town.

Here is where the problems begin. You see Humphrey is, to put it gently, crackers. He suffers from being exceptionally wealthy and, despite some motions towards investing in local amenities, largely exists on a moral crusade against the changing social mores of the 20th Century. He won't countenance any businesses that does not contribute to the atmosphere of a sleepy market town (read: basically anything), refuses to maintain or sell off his properties, leaving the place full of the rotting shells of buildings, and he's been at war with the town council so long, they're currently planning to build on a flood plane that does indeed routinely get swamped by the river just to have somewhere to put new houses.

The man is not well-liked, is what I'm saying. And among his 'charming eccentricities' are the strict requirements he enforces on the pubs he owns. Any Sam Smith's pub must be run by people of good moral character (preferably a married man and woman), there must be no music and no phones, no swearing, no motorcyclists, no kissing, etc, etc. Basically imagine the dourest stereotype of Yorkshire grimness and that's what he's actively aiming for (no I am not kidding, just check out the 'controversies' section of the Sam Smith's wikipedia page).

Anyway, the point of all this is that there's a lovely tale shared around the town about how, one day, our Humphrey walked into a local pub and said to the bar-tender something to the effect of, 'Switch off that music, throw those people out, take down those fixtures and fittings, this is not the Victorian traditionalism I pay you for.'

Only, the bar-tender leant over the bar and replied, 'well that's nice, Mr Smith, but this isn't one of your pubs.'

Should you find yourself in the position of having some dipstick with fixed opinions swan into your work and start telling you everything you've gotten wrong, I think you could do worse than bear this heroic chap's words in mind. Your work is not their pub. They have no claim on what you make and no grounds for enforcing their vision over yours. They aren't paying you, you aren't working for them, and frankly, they have profoundly misunderstood the situation if they think they're entitled to tell you want to do.

This is true even in the face of widely accepted fanon or when you're cutting against general expectations. In fandom, every piece of art is the result of our own personal reactions to a piece of media. We can decorate our individual pubs however we want and if other people don't like it, well, they can lump it. Go forth and do what you like, music and kissing and all!

[This post brought to you by the belated 11 year anniversary of that berk on dA who spent ages arguing with my attempt at redesigning the Quarks from Doctor Who. The *bloody Quarks*, man! Sheesh.]

#fandom #fanfic #fanart #more rambling #just to be clear the usual 'do no harm' caveat always applies #you shouldn't be a jerk either #but beyond that #yeah #you don't owe nobody nothing

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doggone-devil · 1 month

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By the Cover: Chapter 1

Behold! A secondary novel for me to write while I work on my other one XD No, but this idea has a chokehold on me so of course I had to write it. Pairing: Alastor x afab!Reader Warnings: none for this chapter~ Word Count: 2,517

"I waited for you my entire life and you were worth every minute." - Mark Anthony

Two lovers, hand in hand, facing the odds of the world around them. A poetic tale of how love triumphs over everything, not even the Universe itself able to keep them together. A romance little girls dream of as they watch their idols on screen, fantasizing about the day they'll be swept off their feet into a happily ever after. Such a beautiful hope, a goal they could one day accomplish, unlike you.

Wrapped in a well-worn blanket, you sit on your couch with your nose buried in the latest episode of your favorite show. The second you received the notification of its release, your were scrambling to go to the streaming site, the show queued in your favorites, ready to play. Giddy with excitement, you began to watch, engrossed in the plot as it furthered, the various characters building the hype of the upcoming climax. As much as you loved seeing them, your eyes waited patiently to recognize one character in particular.

There.

An audible gasp escapes you before a high pitch shriek, your toes wiggling to try and exert some of the built up energy you felt just from seeing them appear. Red hair dipped in black, fluffy ears, and captivating red eyes. You swoon when they speak, voice filtered to sound like those old 1920s radio broadcast. Some fans find the voice annoying but you swore it was an angel speaking, your body shivering in response to their words. They were the love of your life, your hyperfixation, your absolute obsession.

Alastor was the their name, a very powerful Overlord and one of the main characters of your favorite animated show, Hazbin Hotel. It had appeared and swept many into it's fandom, becoming favored next to the other show released by the same creator, Helluva Boss. Granted, you still loved that show and watched it when the episodes came out, but this one - you squeal - this one had you in an iron grip and all because of the radio demon so graciously displayed on screen.

Granted, you realized your quick fascination with the character was a bit problematic. Firstly, he was manipulative, scheming, and in it for only for him. He didn't care, really, about the other characters, even having a near breakdown when almost dying for them. You were certain if he existed in real life, he wouldn't be as lovely as you dreamt him to be, but that didn't stop your heart from skipping when you saw him. It also didn't stop you from spending your hard earn money on countless fan merch, his face decorating every pillow, blanket, and object you owned. Even the phone in your hand had his face on it, smiling at you with hooded lids. Yes, you had a problem but you weren't stopping any time soon.

"Another perfect episode," you sigh, letting your hands drop to your lap as you lean back into your couch. The credits roll and you happily stare up at your ceiling, thoughts already plagued by him. He was so cool this time, not that he wasn't all the time, but this time he had been so sassy. You were already thinking of ways to write about it, ready to tell others in the fandom how baby girl coded he was. You giggle, tossing your blanket off your legs. You stretch with a groan, looking back at your phone to note the time. Your stomach grumbles.

You hum as you walk to your kitchen, looking in the fridge for something to eat. You weigh your options of a ketchup sandwich or mayo sandwich. Tough decisions, both sounding very appeasing, but you opt for the third option. You grab your keys and hoodie, tugging it over your head as you slip on your flip flops. You may only have sixteen dollars left after purchasing that one Alastor keychain, but it was totally worth it. Besides, you only needed eight of it to buy an everything bagel and coffee.

Basking in the sunlight for a second once you step outside, you head down the sidewalk from your duplex home, steering clear of other pedestrians as they mosey about. It's clear out, the cold air leftover from winter barely noticeable with no wind, the sun warm as it hangs high in the sky. A very nice day to enjoy as you walk, wondering what it'd be like to take Alastor to a small café. You tilt your head down to keep others from seeing your goofy smile, unable to hide the joy you feel of imagining Alastor critique the food.

He would probably comment on the way it's processed, stating how homecooked meals were the way to go. Oh, how you'd give anything to taste a meal cooked by Alastor. From what you knew of his backstory, he loved to cook and enjoyed a good jambalaya. You weren't raised southern, nowhere close as you recall your hometown in Michigan. You grew up with cabbages and kolackies, a drastic difference from shrimp and gumbo. Granted, you have tasted the Cajun dishes, curious to know what they tasted like when you discovered Alastor's birthplace, but you wanted them cooked by a real southern man. No, you wanted them cooked by Alastor, otherwise they just couldn't be as good. Shame.

You're greeted by a barista as you walk into your favorite café, breathing in the air deeply, enjoying the favorable scents that assault you. It's just a small business a block away from your house, easy and fast to get to. It had the best bagels you've ever tasted and the coffee wasn't half bad, either. You step in line, eagerly waiting behind three other customers while you roam the menu above. You already know what you'll order but it doesn't hurt to see what's new, checking their daily specials. Today seems to be an in house blueberry muffin, complimented with a drink of the customer's choice. It's appealing, but you're not that big a fan of blueberries. Or muffins.

"Excuse me." You hear the voice before feeling the shove, a person squeezing in the line to get through. You step back to avoid them, yet your foot gets caught on the other. You begin to fall backwards until a firm body stops you. You turn to apologize as you regain your footing, but your words get caught in your throat. You see a man standing behind you, his hands fixing his bowtie, but that's not what makes you speechless. He's tall, very tall, with bright red hair and tan skin. As he looks down at you, your breath hitches. His eyes are almost as red as his hair and you wonder if they're contacts. They have to be, you think to yourself, no one's eyes are red. It's not a natural color but they look natural. You must be staring too long cause he clears his throat.

"Sorry!" you blurt out, quickly turning to face forward, realizing a gap between you and the customer ahead of you. You scamper to move up, nearly tripping over your feet, your cheeks burning in embarrassment. You try not to think about the man behind you or his stupidly good looks. Seriously, how chiseled does one jaw have to be? You could cut marble with it. You focus on anything but him, staring at your feet until the barista is asking for your order.

Bagel and coffee secured, you walk to your usual spot in the corner of the café, a window table with two seats. It's comfortable and spaced far enough away from the other tables to let you enjoy your food in peace. You shrug out of your hoodie as you sit, hanging it on the back of the chair. You take a bite of your bagel, moaning softly at the seasonings popping off on your tongue. It's simple and yet, to you, so delicious. Pulling out your phone, you go to scroll through some apps, but your attention is caught by a red coat passing by. You glance up and nearly choke on the bite you swallow. The man from before settles at a table close to yours, only a coffee in hand when he sets it down. He also pulls out his phone, paying no mind to anything around him. Unlike you, your eyes glued to him. You swear he seems familiar despite never seeing him before.

He's wearing nearly all red, minus his black pants. His coat is a deep red, matching his hair. The undershirt is white, however, and you notice black gloves on his hands. Huh, you chuckle to yourself. He almost looks like Alastor, the clothes very similar and even his build - You blink.

Oh my god. Oh my fucking god, you think, eyes wider than the plate your bagel sits on. You quickly look away, your hand slapped over your mouth at the realization. You just compared a real person to a fictional character.

You take another glance, trying to study him more. He's tall like Alastor, slender for sure, but you can't really tell with the coat on. He's style is like that out of the 1920s, just like Alastor. A tailcoat, collared undershirt, bowtie, and even dress pants completed with dress shoes. Just slap a monocle on him and he could be Alastor what with the slanted, bob haircut had had. God, if you had your cosplay Alastor ears and antlers, you'd ask him to wear them and call you darling.

No, wait, what's wrong with you? Ugh, you're so creepy and you need to stop staring so much and - oh my god, now he's staring back. Idiot!

You take interest in your bagel again, taking a rather large bite as you struggle to chew. You begin to cough as the pieces roughly slide down your throat, eyes watering as you reach for your coffee. You're gulping it down to help the food along, gasping for air. You hear a snorted chuckle and look up, seeing the man cover his mouth with the back of his hand, avoiding your look. You can see the smile and blush, realizing he watched all of that. Could this get any worse?

You sigh, wanting to bang your head on the table. Instead, you reach for your phone, knowing tumblr will distract you. Only, the Universe decided today was the day to pick on you and as you reach for said phone, your arm bumps your coffee. It spills. All over your table. All over you. You want to cry.

"Here." You see the man walk over to you, extending his hand to offer a handkerchief. You take it, sniffling with a pout.

"Thank you," you mumble, wiping at your now ruined top. It was white ten seconds ago, now stained brown. As you wipe, the liquid spreads. You sigh in defeat, knowing you'll have to throw it away when you get home. Thank god you have your hoodie.

"Here, let me," the man says, taking the handkerchief gently from your hands. You let him, too embarrassed and sad about your shirt. He smiles as he dabs at your shirt. "Wiping only helps the coffee to set. You have to dab for the best results." You watch him, slightly annoyed at the way he fusses over it like a dad would, but you're not angry. In fact, you feel kind of in awe as he moves, your eyes glued to his face. His nose is pointed and sharp, eyes angled like a cat. His lashes are long, complimenting those strange red eyes. You try to see if they are, in fact, contacts, but as you lean to get a closer look, they snap up to meet you. You jump back, knocking into the table. Your coffee cup sways but before it can spill again, he reaches out to steady it. You sigh in relief.

"Sorry," you apologize.

"You have a clumsy habit, don't you?" he hums, chuckling when you pout again.

"Not usually," you state, turning to grab your hoodie when he steps back. You can't help but feel so small when he straightens up to full height again.

"Really? I couldn't tell." It's a banter, but you're failing to think of how to respond. You're not use to actively conversing with people in the real world, most of your conversations being with friends online or AI chatbots. Ok, maybe you didn't need to think about the last one, but the fact still stands that you don't know how to talk to people. Especially people as attractive as he is.

"Well," you grab your bagel and what's left of your coffee, "as fun as was to bother you and embarrass myself, I have to go." You need to escape, more like it. Your social battery is already beeping in alarm, drained from the back to back events that was your attempted outing for lunch. You throw your trash away as you leave, not taking the chance to look back at the man.

As you walk back home, you can't help but think of how the scenario could've played out different. If you were a normal person, you could've held a conversation with the man, maybe even inviting him for coffee tomorrow. You could flirt and date until, one day, he would ask your hand in marriage. Then you would have kids, grow old together, and live a life well filled. At least, that's the person your mother wanted to be. A normal woman with a normal love life, finding a man to support you and give her grandkids. Sadly, that was never going to happen, you think as you step into your house. If the seven foot cardboard cutout of Alastor greeting you at your front door wasn't enough to deter potential mates away, then surely the numerous framed Alastor posters scattered across your walls would.

Maybe you should cancel that order for the Alastor cursed cat plushie…

Nah.

You toss your keys down and kick off flip fops, pulling your hoodie off to grimace at the disaster that is your white-turned-brown tee. Yeah, there's no getting this stain out and you weren't about to buy some fifteen dollar produce that claims to erase the stain. You shrug it off, opening your kitchen bin and tossing it away. It doesn't bother you too much, thankful it's not one of your Alastor shirts. Speaking of, you walk to your bedroom, going straight to your dresser. You rummage through your shirts before picking one and putting it on. This was one is black, Alastor's face printed on the front with the words 'Smile Like You Mean It' placed around him. It's one of your favorites.

Shuffling back to your living room, you decide to ease your stress with the one thing you know will put a smile on your face. Sitting on your couch, tucking your legs as you bring your blanket back over your body, you quickly open your phone to its browser. Archive of Our Own loads up and you quickly begin filtering through the latest additions to Alastor fanfictions.

Masterlist ... Ao3

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin alastor #alastor #the radio demon #alastor hazbin #alastor x reader #alastor x you #hazbin hotel fanfic #fanfic #hazbin fanfic #alastor fanfic #alastor fanfiction

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